


Eternal Flame

by Pancake22



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Deadpool Thought Boxes, Friends to Lovers, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Karaoke, M/M, Music, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pancake22/pseuds/Pancake22
Summary: Peter is at a karaoke bar with his friends when he spots a certain merc in the audience, and after a moment of initial panic, decides to make the best of the situation.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Spider-Man/Deadpool
Comments: 12
Kudos: 300





	Eternal Flame

“There'll be no strings to bind your hands,  
Not if my love can't bind your heaaaaaaart.”

So here he was, the setting where all protagonists ended up eventually. Drowning their sorrows in some dismal bar with a heart-wrenching song by R.E.M. or Nazareth wailing in the background.

Okay, in this case, it was Juice Newton. And while not inherently a sad song, it was currently being made into one, courtesy of a tone-deaf male patron.

[That's just the typical narrative plot structure. Duh]

{Yeah, it's called the low point}

Except those were usually preceded by a crisis. The police chief just kicked you off the case ("Gun and badge, detective!”). Or your love interest found out you were deceiving them the whole time ("So everything you said was a lie?”). Miscommunication. Heartbreak. Yada yada yada.

But no such events led Deadpool to where he was now, completely resigned and in search of answers at the bottom of a bottle. Nope, this was just the norm for him, that headspace he found himself slipping into whenever he was alone. Like he was stuck in the shittiest part of the film's third act.

"I see no need to take me home,  
I'm old enough to face the DAAAAAWN!"

{Oooh, he’s a-tryin’}

[Trying to what? Rupture my eardrums?]

Deadpool cracked his neck and took a swig of his drink as the singer hit a particularly off-key note.

Just to be clear, this current situation was not his preferred way to end the evening. The drinking part, yes. The location part, no. But since his last gig landed him on the opposite side of town relative to Sister Margaret’s, he decided to switch things up for a change.

"And if we're victims of the niiiight,  
I won't be blinded by the LIIIIIIGHT!"

Which landed him in a karaoke bar. It was pretty low key, basically a restaurant with a stage and dance floor. A far cry from the ones popular in K-town with their flashy LED lights and futuristic night club vibes.

[Those are so young and hip though]

{Yeah they make me feel like I'm in Blade Runner!}

Little did he know that when he walked through those grimy wooden doors tonight, he'd be subjecting himself to a murder most foul, unable to do a damn thing but stand idly by as a song he loved was butchered to pieces.

He had great memories of the song, okay? Ones that were guaranteed to warm your heart and tickle your pickle. Namely that epic freeze frame sequence in his first mov-

"BAY-AY-AY-BEEEEE!!!  
Just call me angel of the morning, ANGEL!  
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, DARLING!!”

{Sooo….about this no killing rule...}

* * *

Once the song reached its end – the patron’s voice now strained from the singing/shouting – Wade slowly relaxed his grip on the glass he’d been clutching. The singer slid the mic back on the stand and croaked out a “thank you" before scampering off the stage. His departure was accompanied by sparse, unenthused applause from the few audience members present.

{I wish Spidey would be our angel of the morning…}

[Can you go for five minutes without mentioning him? He's not even here]

{Oh yeah? Then who's that!}

Deadpool stood abruptly from his seat, the chair making a loud scraping sound against the vinyl flooring. He whipped around and took in the sight of a pudgy middle-aged man slouched over the table behind him.

[That’s not him, you idiot!]

{Fine...but my box-y senses are still tingling}

Sighing in disappointment, Wade settled back down.

[Seriously, though. Even if Spidey were here, you think he’d be interested in a piece of human waste like you?]

Wade let his forehead drop onto the table with a loud bang, falling victim yet again to the boxes’ barrage of insults. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he marginally became aware of loud whispering nearby. Turning his head to the side, he cracked an eye open and was met with a blur of shapes that danced before his vision. When he finally managed to blink everything back into focus, he found himself locking eyes with someone two tables over.

The man quickly averted his gaze, but not fast enough for Wade to miss that expression. One that looked an awful lot like…concern?

[He’s probably wondering if he should call the cops]

The man was currently immersed in a conversation with the two women in his party. Deadpool watched the hushed exchange with mild disinterest until finally, the brunet took a deep breath, shoulders rising slightly at the inhale, and marched towards the stage. His friends giggled to each other in disbelief as they watched his retreating form.

He spent a few minutes browsing the catalog of songs before finally settling on one. As he stood facing the audience, waiting for the track to register, the merc took the opportunity to study his appearance.

The man looked to be in his mid-twenties. His arms, visible due to his outfit choice (a plain t-shirt and khakis) were pretty toned, suggesting regular gym activity. He had brown eyes and disheveled hair that may have actually been presentable at some point during the day, if the way he was constantly running his hand through it was anything to go by. Wade didn’t realize how fixated he had become until the sweet sound of a calliope synth was pulling him out of his daze.

{Awww, I love this one}

The man took a shaky breath and held the mic up to his face.

[Well, don’t get too excited because if he’s anything like that last guy-]

“Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling.  
Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand?  
Do you feel the same, or am I only dreaming?  
Is this burning an eternal flame?”

The ambient chatter within the bar immediately died down, all attention now on the brunet as his warm, dulcet tones enveloped the quiet, empty spaces of the bar. Even the boxes were mesmerized.

[Okay wow, this boy's got some pipes. Vibrato and everything]

{He sounds like a Disney prince!}

What stood out in particular, however, was how his eyes hadn’t left Wade’s the entire time. Whether it was because he was the person sitting closest to the stage or because he was instantly recognizable in his red and black suit, he couldn’t say for sure. But whatever the reason, Wade felt his heart skip a beat being looked at in such a way.

Had they met before?

[In your dreams maybe]

{Yeah, the kind where you wake up all wet!}

A chorus of soothing harmonies chimed in to accompany the brunet on the next verse.

“I believe it’s meant to be, darling. I watch you when you are sleeping,” he winked, earning a gasp from Deadpool. “You belong with me.”

Wade made a show of peering over his left shoulder and then his right before pointing to himself and mouthing, “Me?”

The man smiled and nodded, not missing a beat as he descended the stairs of the stage and approached him.

[Does this count as a song fic?]

{Shhh}

Reaching Wade’s table, he began circling it, hand brushing the back of his chair as he passed by.

“Do you feel the same?” (Deadpool nodded enthusiastically) “Or am I only dreaming? Is this burning an eternal flame?”

Wade was caught by surprise when the man climbed on top of his table and kneeled to be almost eye-level with him. A faint “Sir, you can’t do that” could be heard in the distance but was quickly drowned out by the heightened instrumentals and background vocals.

“Say my name. Sun shines through the rain. A whole life so lonely. Then you come and ease the pain.” The singer gazed at Wade with soulful eyes and held out his hand, palm up.

[Who is he…?]

Aware that he was now gaping, Wade placed his own hand into the outstretched one.

“I don’t want to lose this feeeeeeling. Ohhhhhh.” The singer scooted off the table to stand, pulling Wade out of his chair in the process and leading them both to the dance floor.

As the song slipped into the acoustic guitar solo, the couple commenced some type of casual ballroom dance.

[Okay, how do we know all these moves? We've never practiced them before.]

His confusion was quickly replaced by exhilaration as the brunet spun him around.

{Weeee!}

It was difficult to identify exactly the moment happened. Maybe because everything had been building up so steadily. The lightness of their movements as they flowed with the melody. The grounding sensation of the man's firm and steady grip on Wade’s waist. His velvety voice that calmed Wade’s nerves when he crooned and electrified his senses when he belted. But he suddenly felt so at peace yet full of life in a way he never had before. And so very, very swept away.

But of course, as with many good things, the moment didn’t last for much longer.

As the song gradually eased to a conclusion, the couple slowed to a stop.

“Close your eyes…Give me your hand, darling…”

The singer drew out the last note and lowered his mic. Slightly breathless and faces only inches apart, the two stood staring at one another.

They were pulled from their trance by the sound of applause from one of the tables. Glancing over, Wade noticed the two friends from earlier clutching at each other, consumed in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

The brunet turned back towards Wade as if wanting to say something. But he seemed to think better of it, offering Deadpool an apologetic smile and hopeless shrug instead and walked back to collect his friends off the floor.

Wade wanted to stop him, but as he drifted down from that high and regained some mental clarity, all the words seemed to become lodged in his throat. Excitement and bliss were quickly replaced by self-doubt, and he found himself questioning the younger man’s motives.

[Too much to drink? Pity? A bet?]

{I'm confused. Are we in a musical or 90s chick flick?}

[Actually, I think nowadays it’s more like a social media challenge]

What else was he supposed to think? Sitting all alone like the sad, pathetic sap that he was and suddenly some guy comes strolling into his life like some manic pixie dream boy. Acting so interested in him with no absolutely no basis for that attraction.

Deadpool shook himself before downing the remainder of his drink in one motion. Throwing some cash on the table, he headed towards the exit. It took up almost all of his willpower to not look back, to block out the music still swirling around in his head, to not think about the way those heartfelt lyrics pierced through his outer shell and soothed the aching loneliness inside of him.

* * *

Later that evening, a certain wall-crawler could be found perched on a rooftop, ready to turn in after satisfying his daily commitment to patrol. He had been replaying the events of earlier that night over and over in his head, recalling the sensation of panic the moment the mercenary entered his view.

Unless the circumstances were unavoidable (or he really, really needed the money), Peter preferred to play it safe in all matters regarding his secret identity. And were they unavoidable here? Well, quite a lot of alcohol had been consumed that night. By MJ and Gwen. While he sat back and drank his iced tea. But drunk or not, something about being in the company of close friends in the late hours of the night really tended to coax out a certain kind of spontaneity and boldness.

Also maybe…just maybe this type of scenario was one to frequently enter his daydreams. Not this specific one per se, but occasions where he interacted with people who only knew him in his alternate identity. As irresponsible as it was, he couldn’t deny that there was this thrill, this rush of adrenaline at the possibility of discovery. How far could he push the boundaries before all the pieces clicked together? Before there was that spark of recognition in their eyes?

Of course, that was all assuming the stakes weren’t high, and they definitely weren’t with Deadpool. At some point throughout their years of friendship, the question had gradually evolved from an "if" to a "when." And seeing his best friend sitting there all by his lonesome, uncharacteristically quiet and reserved, Peter was struck with inspiration.

He regretted leaving so suddenly though, without a single exchange of words. But one minute Peter was letting the music guide his actions and the next, the song was over, and he no longer had an excuse to continue the charade.

Peter also may have been counting on Wade’s usual persistence. He half-expected the merc to reach for his hand right as he started to leave. It was what he was used to as Spider-Man at least - that whole figurative dance that defined their relationship. Deadpool relentlessly in pursuit of Spider-Man’s attention while Spider-Man played “hard to get.” So the lack of playfulness from their last encounter felt strange. Surreal.

He could only hope that Wade genuinely enjoyed the performance. More likely, however, the merc was merely humoring what he believed to be a drunk college student, emboldened in his intoxicated state to do something daring (well…what counted as daring in those coming-of-age movies at least).

“Augh!” He groaned and clutched his head in embarrassment.

“What’s got your tights in a twist?” A voice asked from behind.

Peter started. “Oh I uh….was having trouble with my webshooters earlier…” He fiddled with the devices on his wrists.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Deadpool offered, taking a seat beside his friend. “It’s Hispanic Heritage month.”

“I’m….not Hispanic, Wade.”

“First of all Spidey, your body, your choice. And second of all, don’t make everything about you. The month is meant to celebrate the rich culture, history, and influence of Latin American countries!”

Spider-Man stared at him expectantly.

“…such as special menu items now available throughout the month at my favorite Mexican restaurant. Also, Margarita Mondays, bay-BEE!”

The younger man chuckled lightly. The two sat there side by side, letting their legs dangle over the edge of the roof as they silently took in the sights and sounds of New York City past midnight.

Deadpool was the first to speak again. “How was my night you ask? It was pretty great.”

“Oh?” Peter inquired.

“Yes. It was perfection! A man who was muy, muy guapo serenaded me. And with a song by the Bangles, no less. Quite appropriate seeing as I wouldn’t mind bangin’ him, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

“Yes, Wade. When you straight up say you want to bang someone, I ‘know what you’re sayin’,” he replied dryly even as a surge of excitement rushed through his body.

The merc merely cackled.

“So…uh,” Peter cleared his throat. “You…uh…like that kind of stuff?”

“Aw, baby boy, are you jealous?” Deadpool teased.

“No no no. I was just surprised because…I seem to remember you saying how much you despised musicals.”

Wade sighed. “Well, what can I say? That beautiful man converted me.”

“Wow,” Peter laughed, feeling the heat building up in his face. “Must’ve been really nice then.”

The merc paused to lean back and look up at the stars, as if recalling a half-forgotten dream. “Yeah…it was…”

Occasions like these made Peter extremely grateful for his mask and the way it hid the way he smiled so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Hey, Spidey?”

“Hm?”

“Can you sing?”

Uh oh. "Sorry, Wade," he cut the merc off before he had a chance to speculate any further. "I can’t…I mean, I don’t really do that stuff.”

“Oh Spidey,” he shook his head. “Just give it a chance. Life isn’t all business. There's more to it than bird men and fishbowl heads. Learn to have some fun. Be a little romantic here and there….Practiceonmeifyouwant,” he muttered the last bit through the side of his mouth.

“Byyyye, Wade,” Spider-Man drawled as he stood up to swing away.

* * *

Once he had safely landed on the roof of his apartment, the webslinger allowed himself a moment to bask in the afterglow, spinning around with his arms out like a nun on a hilltop. He could practically hear the love ballad enveloping his senses once again, drowning out all other noises coming from the busy streets below. He began singing absently as he walked in the direction of his open window.

“HEY!”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned around to spot none other than Deadpool peeking over the lip of the rooftop.

“Wade, what are you doing here!” He asked frantically.

“You said you were having trouble with your web-shooters. I was worried they’d malfunction while you were swinging, and I wanted to make sure you got home safely – seeing as I was just going off on you about being romantic and all," he explained as he fully climbed onto the roof. "Practice what ya preach, as mah mama always used tuh tell mey,” he added in an exaggerated southern accent.

“Oh,” Peter said, pacified somewhat.

The merc nodded cheerfully.

“So what were you just singin'?” He asked, the lightness of his voice belying the weight of that question.

Shit.

Wade slowly and deliberately made his way over to the webslinger.

“I guess when you told me about it, it just got stuck in my head. I’m not much of a singer, though. What is singing even?” Peter’s babbling evolved into a nervous laughter.

Deadpool paused.

“I never told you what the song was though.”

“No, but you mentioned it was by the Bangles. That’s their most popular song!” He took a step backwards with each one forward that Wade took.

“Uh hello? Manic Monday? Walk Like an Egyptian?” Deadpool asked incredulously.

“You can’t serenade anyone with those, Wade,” he argued, now resembling a cornered animal.

“Says you!" Deadpool countered. "But not only that. You sounded just like...” He trailed off.

Peter stiffened before making a split-second decision to jump off the ledge and swing through the open window of his apartment.

Once inside, he switched on the lights and took a few strides across the living room, stopping when he reached the kitchen counter. Feeling very much like he'd bitten off more than he could chew, he turned around to face the window in anticipation.

Soon enough, Deadpool could be seen clumsily climbing through the frame. After hauling his second leg over the sill and stumbling inside, he honed in on Spider-Man yet again.

“You know," he considered, "I was wondering why a random guy that cute was giving me the time of day…well, night, technically…but it would all make sense now if what I’m thinking is correct…”

Peter resisted the urge to crumple up into a ball. Instead, he stood his ground and watched the merc advance on him with purpose.

Deadpool stopped a foot away, and after a moment of deliberation, hesitantly reached towards Peter’s face.

Dread and excitement surged through his veins, filling his ears with the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt like time was moving too fast and too slow all at once with the two of them standing there, Deadpool’s fingers curled under the bottom edges of the Spider-Man mask.

Wade peered at the other man questioningly, and when Spider-Man finally gave a small nod, gradually pulled the mask up over his head until it was entirely off.

Peter had always imagined having some clever one-liner at the ready. But once again, nerves got the best of him. And all he could do now was watch the other man, eyes wide and full of uncertainty.

His fears were short-lived, however, as Deadpool let out a noise resembling a strangled gasp, clearly making a great effort to control his enthusiasm. “Oh baby boy,” his voice full of awe. “I’m not sure which part I’m having the most trouble believing, the fact that Spider-Man has the voice of an angel or the fact that he used it to serenade me.”

The hero felt his face grow even hotter, overwhelmed by their physical closeness in his own living space combined with the knowledge that he, as Peter Parker, was finally the subject of Deadpool’s affection. If Peter had fantasized about this event from time to time over the years…well, he’d never tell.

"What? No one’s ever serenaded you before?" Peter joked.

"Nope!" The merc responded, hugging himself and twisting from side to side bashfully. "You were my first time."

“Well, what can I say? I got caught up in the moment.”

“It looked like you might have been having second thoughts for a minute though.”

“Oh, so suddenly the guy who regularly faces super powered villains isn't allowed to get a bit of stage fright?" He huffed before adding, "But from the looks of it, it seemed like you needed this tonight too."

“How so?” Deadpool tilted his head.

“Come on, DP. Don't play dumb. We both know what it's like. Putting on that comedy routine all day for everyone else...but they don’t see what it’s like afterwards when the curtains close and we’re left all alone with our own thoughts.”

Peter began rubbing his neck, uncomfortably aware of how personal he had made this conversation. But he pressed on. "You’ve brought me out of my slump on several occasions Wade, maybe not always on purpose since you didn’t know what I was dealing with at the time, and I wasn't exactly open about it either. But it helped me more than you could ever know. And seeing you there at the bar tonight, all withdrawn the way you are when you think no one’s watching...well, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe it was time I did the same for you.”

Peter’s gaze drifted to a spot on the ground, unable to meet Deadpool’s eyes for the first few seconds as the gravity of the words lingered heavily in the air.

What was he doing? Everything had started off as a joke. Now here he was, baring his heart to Deadpool, who he had no reason to believe truly desired anything deeper than flirtatious banter or…casual sex. But genuine emotions? A meaningful relationship? Was that ever on the table?

He waited for the other man to poke fun at his sentimentality or make some other flippant remark in true Deadpool fashion. Instead, when Peter looked up again, it seemed that the weight of his confession had fully seeped in.

Wade had pulled off his own mask to reveal the scarred face underneath. Peter had seen it many times now. Nothing new there. What was new, however, was what he saw in his eyes.

Vulnerability. Hopefulness. Longing.

A warmth blossomed in Peter’s chest, and he felt a strong force drawing him in. Slowly, his hands reached up to touch Wade's face. The merc’s gaze drifted from Peter’s eyes to his lips.

“Spidey...” he breathed.

“It’s Peter.”

“Petey….”

Peter snorted softly but smiled nonetheless. He leaned in and softly pressed his mouth to Wade's. Their lips moved tentatively against each other's at first before the merc placed his hands on Peter's waist and pulled him in closer. Peter responded by wrapping his arms around Wade's neck and pressing flush against him, allowing them to deepen the kiss.

When the two eventually broke apart, Deadpool was staring at him with such unreserved affection, Peter could feel his heart melt.

Now that all burning questions were finally answered, Wade spared a second to take in their surroundings.

“Wait, is this some random apartment, or is this where you actually live?”

“Yeah…I live here,” Peter shrugged, bracing himself for a comment about its shoddy appearance.

“So is that a guitar?”

Peter stepped back and blinked as Deadpool nodded to the instrument propped up against the far wall.

Oh no…

Seeing the look on Wade’s face now – that glint of excitement in his eyes – he began to have regrets about everything.

* * *

It was funny to think how stressed Peter had been about revealing his identity to Deadpool. So much that he didn’t stop to consider what the repercussions would be for revealing his repertoire of musical talents. Because once that little secret was out, the merc wasted no time taking advantage of it – compiling a list of songs he wanted to hear through the medium of Peter’s “heavenly” voice (Deadpool’s words, not his).

First up was a song they’d already heard that night since Wade had absolutely insisted to needing a corrective experience. So the younger man just went along with it – strumming his guitar and singing about being Wade’s angel of the morning. And if something inside Peter’s chest fluttered at the way Wade's eyes lit up…well, he'd never tell.


End file.
